A Pureblood Muggle?
by etherealfire
Summary: When the new Head Boy and Girl try to catch the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of their seventh year, they find that they have lost all their magical powers, and there’s no one to help them. DH. Book 6 disregarded, minor HBP spoilers.
1. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

This story has been reposted since I have received notice that any overly-long author notes and/or review replies can get a story deleted. If you have any kind of issue with a story of mine, PLEASE email me or notify me in a review BEFORE going to a site admin; I have put a great deal of work and love into my stories. Thank you!

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The smoke in the air smelled faintly of ancient alleyways, and Hermione closed her eyes as the familiar scent washed over her. To the young woman, however, it wasn't unpleasant, as it was her first clue that she was getting close to Platform 9 ¾, the setting-off point for the Hogwarts Express, departing at exactly 11:00 from King's Cross. 

Nervously she rubbed her fingers over the navy leather strap of her new bag. Mum had gotten it for her; she was 17 now, after all, and it was time she started looking like a lady. Hermione smiled at the thought.

People rushed past as the next train's whistle screamed out into the warm early-autumn air, sending billowing clouds of steam upward. She hoped that no one would notice that she had been standing there for quite some time now, neither looking at the trains nor running for one. No one usually did notice, but... Still not comforted, Hermione took out her scarlet ticket and looked at it for the fortieth time, examining the delicate golden scrollwork on the outside border: _Hogwarts Express. This ticket registered in the name of Hermione Granger, 7th year, and may be used by said person only. Amount paid by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _And at the bottom, her favorite part: _Head Girl, Head Cabin._

She looked down at the ticket, still not able to believe her luck. She, _Hermione Granger_, had been chosen to be the Head Girl of Hogwarts! She wasn't even a Pureblood, as certain of her schoolmates often reminded her. Speaking of which...wasn't that face awfully familiar?

She stared into the crowd, but the face was gone. Hmm. Besides, it didn't matter. She didn't want to see _him_ here. And where were Harry and the Weasleys? She fretted again as she mentally ticked off all the things that could have happened: car accident, Ginny was late, Floo network acting up (this was how they had planned to pick up Harry from his awful aunt and uncle's in Little Whinging), and many other things, too horrible for Hermione to think about. She shivered. Voldemort was still out there, after all, and what if he decided to strike when they were the most vulnerable, outside Dumbledore's protection...

The ticket slipped from her hand and fell to the ground. Muttering something that would have shocked those who knew the slightly bookish girl, Hermione dropped her bag and scrambled under the against-the-wall bench in search of it. Wonderful. Ten minutes to departure time and she couldn't find her ticket...

Her hand scrabbled wildly in the dimness as she closed her eyes in disgust at the feeling of old wrappers, dust, and what she hoped wasn't a spider. Her fingers connected with something. There! Grinning triumphantly, Hermione emerged from under the bench.

"Very dignified, Granger," a voice drawled.

Hermione whirled around and looked up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. "What do you want?" she scowled, standing up in a hurry and brushing off her clothes.

"Now, now, Mudblood, is that any way to talk to the Head Boy of Hogwarts?"

Hermione's face drained of color. "You're joking," she gasped.

He smirked. _Does he EVER do anything else but look smug?_ Hermione glared at him. "Well, I thought you'd receive me a little better, Granger, seeing as how I was coming over here to congratulate you, but I see that you still lack manners." Hermione felt her face grow pink as his eyes traveled lazily over her body and back up again, coming to rest on her face. "Your looks, however..." She saw a glint of admiration in his eyes, but they quickly grew cold. "...are even more appalling than your manners." He grinned nastily. "If you want proof, look at your hair!"

Hermione self-consciously raised her hand halfway to her head. "What's wrong with—no, Malfoy, I'm fine. It's _you_ who could use a lesson in manners."

The glint of her watch caught her eye, and Malfoy fled her mind. "Three minutes. I'd better go."

"You?"

"Frankly, you git, I couldn't care less if you stayed in London forever."

Malfoy grinned.

Ignoring him, Hermione picked up her bag from where it had fallen to the ground. She faced the stone pillar between platforms 9 and 10, and, squaring her shoulders, began walking, then broke into a run. Three...two...she closed her eyes...one...

SMACK.

Hermione fell to the ground, dazed, little bright spots dancing before her eyes. Her head was throbbing from where she had bashed it against the bricks. Behind her, she was faintly aware of someone laughing. _Malfoy_. Gritting her teeth, she said, "Shut...up...you...git" before the world went suddenly blurry and faded to gray.

Someone was slapping her face. "Granger!"

She felt as though a ton of bricks had just been dropped on her head. _Well, practically, yes,_ she thought ruefully. She opened her eyes, wincing at the bright station lights, to see Malfoy hovering above her, his face close to hers. "What happened?" she asked slowly.

"Get up! There's something wrong." It was the closest to in a state of panic that Malfoy had ever looked. That in itself—though it wasn't for her—was enough to make Hermione sit up, holding her head and groaning. Draco grabbed her other arm and yanked her to her feet.

"Get...up!" he hissed. Taking her hand—_odd, _she thought dizzily—he looked around them at the sparse crowd, then took off at a run toward the platform divider, dragging her behind him. _Wait..._her mind protested dimly, before they both crashed into the bricks with a resounding _thud_.

Draco had hit harder, and now he was the one clutching his shoulder and moaning loudly. "Bloody—stupid—platform..."

Hermione's vision finally cleared, and she made her way over to the bench once again. Draco sat heavily beside her. With an impending sense of doom, she looked up at the station clock.

3...

2...

1...

The clock began chiming 11:00.

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Please review! First HP fanfic :) 


	2. Benchmates

Great. Just great. Hermione glared at her bench mate, who glared back at her with equal animosity. She had just missed the only transportation to Hogwarts that she knew of, and—was it worse?—she was stuck in King's Cross with the world's biggest git. 

"What happened?" she thought aloud, puzzled. _Why_ hadn't the gateway opened for them? It always had before, except when Dobby had tried to prevent Harry from returning to Hogwarts that one year...She shook her head.

"I don't know, Granger, you're supposed to be the brilliant one."

"Shut it, Malfoy." She resumed staring at the tickets in her hands.

"I'll call Father. He'll get us to Hogwarts," Malfoy decided suddenly.

Hermione turned to look at him, bemused. "'Us'?"

"Well, obviously Dumbledore wouldn't be very happy if I just left you here, now would he?" Draco scoffed, as if such a thing was so obvious that a toddler would understand.

"Ah. Well, hurry it up, then," Hermione said irritably.

"Or what?" He smirked. "We'll get _suspended_? God, Granger, you're such a prude." He took out his wand—it had been Charmed to look like a pencil—and dangled it in front of her face.

"I am _not_ a prude, Malfoy."

"Oh, you're not?" He leaned in closer. "I'd say you have to pay for this ride. Say...a kiss?"

Hermione's hand was halfway to his smirking face when her wrist was caught in an iron grip. She stared at him, face flushed and eyes wide. "Don't, Granger," he said warningly, rain-silver eyes cold. He let her hand drop, then laughed. "Who would want to kiss a filthy little Mudblood like you, anyway?"

"You—you—" Hermione sputtered, furious.

Malfoy ignored her and picked up his wand/pencil. He muttered something that ended with "Lucius Malfoy", then waited. Although she was still angry, Hermione wanted to watch this. She had heard of wizards being able to "call" one another as if by telephone, but had never seen it.

Nothing happened.

Draco stared at his wand. What the bloody- He cursed aloud, earning a sniff from Granger—did the girl ever shut up?—and shook the wand. He muttered again, more commandingly this time. Still nothing.

"Oh, let me try," Hermione said impatiently, taking out her wand. She pushed his hand away. "Don't worry, no one can see," she snapped. "Now, what was that spell again?"

Her wand didn't work, either. "That's very odd," she said thoughtfully, looking at the tip. "Here, let's try something a little easier...ah, this should work."

Pointing her wand underneath the bench, where it was darker, she muttered, "_Lumos!_"

Absolutely nothing.

Hermione looked up at Malfoy. "What's going on?"

His brow was furrowed. "I don't know!" he said, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. "But we can't contact my father, I know that."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

Malfoy looked as if he were having some kind of internal struggle. "I suppose," he said tightly, grudgingly, "we could contact your mum and dad."

"Can't. They're on holiday in Queensland."

"Bloody hell."

"Malfoy!"  
"Oh, shut it, Granger." He lapsed back into gloomy silence, staring straight ahead. Suddenly something seemed to click in his head, and he shot straight up. "I know!" he said. Without even glancing at her, he broke into a run.

"What? What is it?" Hermione cried, grabbing her bags and racing to catch up with him. "Where are we going?" she gasped out as the bag thudded against her legs with every step.

"Diagon Alley. If we can't get in there, then..." He didn't need to say any more.

They reached the familiar dead end. Malfoy reached up and tapped the stones. Nothing. He tapped harder. "That's right, isn't it?" Hermione nodded and tried it herself.

The stones refused to budge.

Draco swore and leaned against the wall, still breathless from his run. Great. Just great. He was trapped in the Muggle world with the one girl he despised most. Why couldn't it have been Blaise? Even Pansy was preferable to this know-it-all, overly talkative Mudblood.

She was saying something to him. He glanced down at her, annoyed. Granger frowned, the bruise over her left eye beginning to darken, and her hair was tangled from their run and the dust from her mad search for her ticket. He couldn't be seen with this...Muggle. _Wait, Draco. Everyone here is a Muggle. You have no choice._

"I _said_, Malfoy, that we need to work together. I don't like you, and you don't like me, but we don't really have a choice if we're going to get back to Hogwarts. Understand?"

"I'm not stupid, Mudblood."

Hermione's eyes flashed, and for a second she clamped her mouth shut, looking disturbingly like McGonagall. Then something seemed to change in her gaze, and she smiled. Draco suddenly remembered how intelligent Granger really was.

All she said, however, was, "If we're going to work together, _never call me Mudblood again_. Is that clear, _Draco_?" She spat the name out. Draco glowered at her. "I don't need this, and I certainly don't need you," he hissed, and turned to walk off.

"Yes, you do," came her voice behind him. "Face it, Malfoy, you're helpless in this world, without your wand and your oh-so-powerful father. You realize, don't you, that our powers are gone? You can't contact him. I can't contact my parents. We're stuck until Dumbledore finds a way to get to us. And I'm the only one who knows how to get around here."

Draco wanted to hit her, but he held in his anger. She was right. His shoulders slumped—almost. He wouldn't admit defeat to a Mudblood. "Fine. Name your terms."

"You call me Hermione."

"Fine. Anything else?"

They stood glaring at each other, arms crossed. "You do what I say." She said it so matter-of-factly, so sure that he would agree, that Draco instantly bristled.

"And if I don't?" he demanded.

"Why wouldn't you? Unlike Slytherins, I don't want to hurt you." Hermione looked genuinely surprised. "I told you, you don't know what you're doing out here."

He relented. "Fine, fine." Then a malicious look spread over his face. "But Father is going to hear about this when we get back.

Hermione shrugged. "If you say so. Now, do you have any Muggle money?"

She burst out laughing at the look on his arrogantly handsome face.

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Please review!

etherealfire


	3. Electricity

Draco gaped at the immense building ahead of them. It was like an enormous mirrored grid, and red letters down the side spelled out "King's Cross Royal Hotel" Hermione glanced at him, noting the astonished look on his face. "This is where we're staying," she said. 

"This place? But...surely _you_ can't afford something like this!"

Hermione frowned. "It isn't as if I'm poor, Malfoy...I mean Draco." She had been calling him "Draco" since their so-called deal back in the alley. He suspected that she did it just to annoy him. So far, it was working remarkably well.

They stopped before the hotel's main door. It looked like four panes of glass on some kind of turnstile. "What-?" Draco looked at it suspiciously. "How do we..."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "_Honestly_, Draco!" She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the nearest "compartment" formed by the four panes of glass.

It began to move. Draco jumped involuntarily.

"No, it's not magic," Hermione said, echoing his thoughts. "It's called a sensor."

"A what?"

"An electronic eye."

"What's 'electronic'?"

They exited into a giant lobby. Hermione stopped and stared at him. "Are you joking?" A smile crept over her face. "This is going to be fun," she said to herself.

Draco did _not_ like the sound of that.

Hermione ordered him to stay where he was, which was just fine with Draco. He was too busy gazing around the room. It was long and the floor was highly polished white-swirled-with-gold marble, and there were glittering chandeliers overhead. Plants were everywhere, as were comfortable chairs and small coffee tables of gleaming chestnut-colored wood. Over to Draco's left, there was a large fireplace and two couches on a carpeted area, and to his right a private restaurant area—currently empty—and a grand piano sat serenely beneath the dancing flecks of green-gold sunlight from the glass roof. This looked like his manor.

"Your mouth is hanging open," Granger—no, Hermione—commented, giving him a wry smile as she handed something small and white to him. It was some kind of plastic card, with a black strip on the other side, the side that didn't say the hotel's name. "What is this?" he asked, confused.

"Room key."

"This isn't a key!"

"Yes, it is. Come on. And stop gaping, Mal-Draco, you'd think you were a...what did you used to say?...'Mudblood' with no proper breeding. It's not even a fancy hotel, for crying out loud."

Draco chose to let the not-so-subtle insult slide. He was still thinking about what Hermione had just said. "It's not?"

"No. And hurry up." Hermione grabbed his hand as she would with Ron or Harry, then, thinking better of it, took his sleeve instead.

"You're going to rip it," Draco said testily as she dragged him toward two odd panels in the wall. Above them was a little lighted bar with numbers. _What is THAT?_

Hermione didn't even slow down, nor did she let go of his sleeve. "You _want_ me to hold your hand?"

"Point." Draco glanced over at what appeared to be the main desk; it did, after all, say _Reception_ on the sign. The young man working at the counter was staring admiringly at him, and jerked his head in Hermione's direction, flashing Draco a thumbs-up and grinning. Draco stared at him, frowning in confusion. Wait...

The wall had somehow opened, and Hermione was pushing him into a tiny little room with buttons of some kind on the walls. She looked down at her "key" and pressed one of the buttons. The doors slid shut.

The floor jerked, and Draco felt himself moving upward. "What is this thing? Where are we?" he demanded.

She didn't look up. "This is an elevator. It saves us 13 flights of stairs."

"Is it magic?"

Hermione sighed. "No, Draco, none of this is magic. Muggles aren't as stupid as you think they are."

Draco rolled his eyes, and felt his stomach lurch as the...elevator?...came to a sudden stop. Hermione didn't look fazed in the least. The doors slid open, and he found himself face-to-face with a wall. Following his fellow Head, he stepped out of the elevator and into a hallway that stretched for quite a ways in both directions.

Hermione looked up at a sign that said "1350-1399 LEFT, 1300-1349 RIGHT". She checked her key again. "1324...1324...to the right." She headed off down the hall, apparently having forgotten about Draco. He had to practically run to catch up with her. _Wow, the girl walks fast._

She stopped in front of a door labeled "1324", and below that, "NO SMOKING". Pulling out her key, she examined a small box above the door handle. It had some kind of lights on it and a slot. "Right. Here's how you open the door." Hermione turned to Draco. "Take out your key and slide it through that slot, the black strip in the slot."

Draco, glancing suspiciously at her—how in the world could a plastic card possibly open a door?—did what she said. The door beeped and the little light flashed green. Draco stared at it as Hermione pushed down on the handle and opened the door. He shook his head. This was much more confusing than magic.

Hermione motioned for him to follow her inside. He did so, and she shut the door behind them.

"See what I mean? This isn't exactly Buckingham Palace," she said derisively, gesturing around at the quite standard hotel room. At least there was a TV. She flopped down on the bed nearest the window and, out of habit, turned on the television.

Draco, who had seated himself on the other bed, yelped as the room was suddenly filled with sound and color. "What the bloody hell is that?" he shouted, as the face of a particularly hideous cartoon character filled the screen.

Hermione whirled, eyes wide. "Shut up, you git!"

"Don't tell me to shut up, Granger! Turn it off!" He was steadily increasing the volume of his voice.

She scrambled over and tackled him, trapping him beneath her and pressing her hand over his mouth. Draco stared up into her eyes, shocked. "Do you want to get us thrown out of here?" she hissed, face very close to his. He shook his head mutely. "Then keep your voice down! For goodness sake, it's only a telly!"

"Get...off...me!" he gasped, shoving her hand away. Hermione smiled, eerily like his own favorite expression. "Sorry," she said., getting up and reseating herself on her own bed. "Now watch. This is a television." She picked up a small black bar of plastic and pressed a button on it. The sound went away. "And this is a remote control...hmm...let's see what else is playing..."

She pressed another button and the image on the screen changed. An old man stood there, fishing. "No..." Click. Another image, this one of a group of people throwing food at one another. "Commercial..."

By this time Draco's curiosity had gotten the better of him. "Let me see that."

"Wait."

"Give it here."

"Wait...channel 22...yes, here it is."

Draco watched as Hermione pressed another button and held it. The sound blared forth, but quickly receded to quieter-than-conversation-level. She got up and walked back to him, then sat down beside him. "Here, it's quite easy, actually. Here is the 'ON/OFF' switch...and here is the volume control...and just play with this button until you find a programme you like..."

She left the remote with him and got up to go into the bathroom. "Oh good, they've got room service. We do need toiletries, after all."

Draco ignored her. This was like a giant toy. He fiddled with the buttons until he stopped on a programme that looked intriguing. The people did have funny hair, but...

Hermione came back into the room. "What's this?" She laughed. "Nice, Malfoy—I mean Draco—you've picked up the one American channel."

"Is that bad?" He realized how stupid that had sounded, but she didn't seem to notice. "Some of it," she said honestly, "but what you're watching right now is one of my favorites."

_Oh, great. The Mudblood's favorite. Then again,_ Draco thought, _I might as well watch it...it looked amusing BEFORE I knew that..._

"I'm sure that it will be worth my time, then," he said smoothly, and made himself comfortable as Hermione rolled her eyes and began fiddling with the alarm clock.

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Please review! And I need suggestions for the plot of this story, so please contact me if you have any! 


	4. Rude Awakening

"_Draco!_" 

Draco opened his eyes to see Hermione Granger's face very close to his own. He shot upright. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh! Do you want the whole hotel to wake up?" she hissed angrily.

"Well, why not? That desk boy already thinks—"

"Shut _up_!" She turned away from his smirking face and grabbed a piece of paper off her bed. "Where do you live?"

"What?"

"Obviously you live somewhere, we'll just have to get there and then your father can take us to Hogwarts."

"Wha—No, Granger, that won't work." He put an arm over his eyes to block out the light of the bedside lamp. "What time is it?"

"Three a.m., and it's _Hermione_," she said brusquely. "Why won't it work?"

Draco was still trying to figure out what was going on. "My house is protected, stupid; you can't just see it from the road. I don't think I could find it without magic."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"Now go back to sleep—that light's driving me crazy."

Hermione muttered something and set the paper down on the bedside table, then climbed back into bed and turned off the light.

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RRRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG! 

Draco's eyes flew open in time to see Hermione's hand slam down on the alarm clock, but the noise didn't stop. "What _is_ that?" he demanded loudly. Let the other patrons wake up. He was tired and very annoyed.

Hermione's eyes were squinting in the early morning light that flooded the floor in yellow-gray panels. Her hair was mussed and she shoved it back with one hand as she picked up the telephone, which was blinking.

"Hello?" she croaked.

Draco could faintly hear a tinny voice. "Good morning, is Mrs. Malfoy there?"

"Who?" Hermione blinked groggily.

Draco grabbed for the phone. She pulled away from him. "Give it here! It's for me, they said..." He hissed, as the speaker repeated, "Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes. Speaking." She glared at her roommate. Draco's mouth dropped open. What in the name of Merlin was she doing?

Hermione turned away from him so she was facing the window. The tinny voice rattled on, but she had muffled the sound, and all he could hear was, "Yes...yes...thank you...what! Thank you, I'll be down shortly. Good day to you, too." She turned back over, blankets rustling, and hung up the phone.

Draco was on his stomach now, staring at her. "_Mrs. Malfoy!_"

"What?" She looked offended. "It was the best way."

"To tell the hotel people we're _married_?"

"I don't like it, either, but it was a lot easier than having them check our ID's and call our parents." She held up a hand at his protest. "You can't call your parents by Muggle phone, and mine are on holiday, I can't exactly charge that kind of long-distance call to their phone bill, can I?"

Draco shut his mouth, but glared at her. "Fine. So what do we do? What was that call about?"

"Message in the lobby. From one A. D."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes, I'm supposed to go pick it up." She pushed off the covers and swung her legs over the bed.

"You're going to wear the same clothes?"

"Do I have any others?"

Draco looked positively horrified. Hermione almost snorted. How vain could the little prat get? "You could change into your Hogwarts robes, Draco, but that might look a little...odd."

Draco turned away and muttered something about "stupid Muggles".

Hermione laughed as she went out the door. Draco made a face at her back and turned on the TV.

She was back in a couple of minutes, cheeks flushed. "I ran all the way back," she gasped. "It _was _Dumbledore! We've got to go. Grab your things."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Hurry up." She reached over and yanked his blankets off, ignoring the fact that he was shirtless. "Get dressed." A grumbling Draco pulled on his Muggle shirt and, grabbing his things, followed her out into the hallway. She read the message aloud to him as they went.

"...and we're supposed to meet him...oh, I haven't read all of this yet, I guess...by NINE O'CLOCK?" She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, and said, "SHI-SHOOT!"

Malfoy snorted. "Nice, Gra-_Hermione._"

"Shut it." She started running, dragging her trunk behind her. Draco followed, complaining loudly.

In the lobby, Hermione turned to Draco. "You said you had a credit card?"

"Yeah..."

"Give it here."

"What? Why? You already paid for the room."

"We need something that will get us there _fast_. I can't afford it."

"So you're using _my_ money?"

Hermione glowered at him. "I'm not the only one missing school here, and we are, unfortunately, both Heads..." She sighed exasperatedly. "Just give it here, all right?"

"Okay, okay!" It was seven in the morning. Draco didn't want to argue with _anyone_ right now, not even know-it-all Granger. He fished around for his wallet and handed her the credit card. "Thank you. Now go wait over there for me."

She was going to pay for treating him like this, Draco thought sourly as he slouched over and sat facing the fountain. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her at some kind of booth...TELEPHONE, read the blue letters over the top. He couldn't quite make out the conversation, but she was looking at the back of the credit card, which worked in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, and appeared to be reading off the numbers. Draco shrugged and turned back to the fountain. He wondered what sort of vehicle would get them there in such a short amount of time...

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Please, please review! (Puppy-dog eyes stolen from Dusty Brown :p) 


	5. Rush hour

I never do this, but here we go: 

LAST TIME:

_She was going to pay for treating him like this, Draco thought sourly as he slouched over and sat facing the fountain. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her at some kind of booth...TELEPHONE, read the blue letters over the top. He couldn't quite make out the conversation, but she was looking at the back of the credit card, which worked in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, and appeared to be reading off the numbers. Draco shrugged and turned back to the fountain. He wondered what sort of vehicle would get them there in such a short amount of time..._

* * *

"Get in, Malfoy. Hurry up," Hermione snapped. "We've got half an hour to be at the checkpoint." 

Draco frowned at her. "By _car_?" He looked suspiciously at the dark-blue Mercedes-Benz. "Are you mad?"

"Please tell me you've been in a car before!"

"Well, yes," he said defensively, "but it was one of those great long limo things, and it wasn't driven by a bloody teenage girl!"

Hermione straightened up, one hand still on the car door. "Would _you _like to drive, Mr. I-know-what-I'm-doing?"

"Shut it."

She laughed and got into the car, Draco grumbling as he followed suit.

It was quite a nice vehicle, even for a Mercedes. Draco's dual Muggle-and-wizarding-world credit card had paid for its rental. Hermione grinned as she inserted the key into the ignition.

"Seat belt?" she asked Draco, who had strapped himself in quite snugly and was examining the window buttons. He rolled his eyes and went back to his examination. Hermione put on hers and, foot firmly on the brake, turned the key.

The car's engine roared to life. Draco jumped and glared at the dash. The only car he had ever been in, a limousine as he had told Hermione, had run smoothly, with little real power under the hood, or at least the chauffeur had not been permitted to drive faster than necessary, for Lucius Malfoy did not trust Muggle technology. But this—_this _was a powerful car. He glanced somewhat nervously at Hermione as she reached for the gearshift. She turned and grinned at him. "Hold on."

Draco did _not _like the sound of that.

The expressway was quite crowded at this time of the morning. Draco had never seen so many cars in his life, or so many vehicles for that matter. He realized with great consternation that they were currently speeding up a long, narrow ramp that ended in the left lane of the freeway, instead of in a separate lane. And the left lane was extremely crowded...

Hermione loved this car. It responded perfectly to her every motion; a gentle touch on the pedal sent the car leaping forward and the brakes were the best she had ever seen. She watched for an opening in the line of traffic and zoomed between two cars. Draco let out what sounded like a squeak.

"You okay?"

"Fine." He glared at her. Hermione grinned evilly. "All I did was merge," she informed him. "We've got a long way to go before we get there."

"Do I look like I care?" he snapped, but she could see that his knuckles were gripping the armrest a little harder than normal. "Actually, yeah," she replied, laughing.

"Shut it," he growled.

A while later, someone changed lanes right in front of them. "Bloody idiot!" Draco cursed, gripping his armrest even harder. Hermione glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Draco looked at her, astonished. "That idiot...didn't you see that?"

"He just changed lanes."

"Right in front of us!"

"That's how you drive here. In other cities, they put on the blinker, look, drift into the other lane. Here, it's look...look...blinker GO."

"Uh-HUH. Keep your eyes on the road, Granger."

"What are you, my driving teacher?"

"No," he said, sounding somewhat strained. "I'm trying to keep us alive until we get to the checkpoint."

"Oh bugger!"

"What?"

"We're in the EXIT ONLY lane!" Hermione and suddenly jerked the car over into the next lane. Draco protested loudly.

"Now _you _shut it, Draco." Hermione glanced back over her right shoulder, and, before Draco could utter a sound, floored the accelerator. The RPM flew up and the Mercedes appeared to nearly leap out of her hands, weaving in and out of the different lanes and nearly clipping a car's back bumper before ending up in the fast lane, cruising down the freeway with no cars ahead of them.

Draco was far paler than normal. "Oh...my...God," he breathed. "What was THAT? Are you _trying_ to kill us?" He glanced over at the speedometer. "I didn't know _anything_ went this fast!"

"I..." She was cut short as someone swerved into their lane, cutting them off, and suddenly slowed down to take a right-hand exit. Hermione Granger, model student/daughter/everything, slammed her fist down on the horn and yelled something that made Draco's eyes widen, giving the driver a highly inappropriate hand gesture with her free hand. "Deleted! What the deleted are you doing? Get off the road, you deleted deleted!"

Draco looked at her with shocked admiration. "Granger? What the—"

Hermione's eyes stayed on the road, but her cheeks were tinged pink; whether it was with embarrassment or pride—or both—Draco couldn't tell. Holding on with one hand, she reached for the radio and fiddled with it until a song came on that she liked. Draco didn't much care for it, but he decided to keep his mouth shut—his life was, after all, literally in her hands.

He soon learned to hate the Beatles.

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Please review! I especially liked writing this chappie (I hope it's a tad more in character bickering-wise), so click that little purplish-grayish-whatever-color-it-is button and write something! Thanks, I look forward to hearing from you. :) 

etherealfire


	6. Draco, Muggle

Updated by request (lol actually I was bored). Enjoy!

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"Good morning, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." Albus Dumbledore smiled affably at the pair as they stepped out of the Muggle car. "I trust your journey was not too, ah, traumatizing?" 

Draco looked more than a little frazzled. Hermione simply smiled brightly at him. "Not at all, Professor!" she declared. Draco shot her an incredulous look, which she pointedly ignored.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well now, we are all safe and sound and ready to return to Hogwarts, but there is one thing I must ask you both, and that is this: what happened, exactly? It is very rare for a witch or wizard to suddenly and completely lose their powers, let alone two at the same time."

Draco frowned. "Gra—_Hermione_ and I were at King's Cross and the platform wouldn't...well, it wouldn't let us on. It was like we were suddenly Muggles, which she is, but—" He trailed off, looking more confused than ever.

"Can you do magic now?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco pulled out his wand. "_Wingardium leviosa!" _he said firmly, pointing his wand at a piece of paper lying nearby. It didn't move. Dumbledore frowned. "Strange..."

"I can't do magic either, Professor," Hermione joined in. "I tried in the car over here—" Draco jumped and glared at her at this rather terrifying revelation "—but it didn't work. What's the matter with us, do you think?"

"I have a suspicion, but it is too soon to act on it." Dumbledore pondered for a moment, conjuring a list out of thin air and reading it quickly. "Very well, we shall have to appoint temporary Heads. I think young Mr. Potter and Miss Patil of Ravenclaw will do nicely; in the meantime, I will consult with Professors Snape and McGonagall as to this strange phenomenon."

Draco was outraged. "P-Potter! You'd replace _me_ with _Po_-"

Hermione interrupted him. "Professor," she said anxiously, "you don't think we're under a Dark curse, do you? Perhaps we shouldn't go back to Hogwarts just yet, in case it isn't s—"

"No, Hermione," Dumbledore said gently, "I do not believe it is a curse. I believe it has more to do with the animosity within our school. You see, many students know of Draco's attempt last year to breach the defenses of Hogwarts—on Voldemort's orders, of course." He turned to Draco, who had gone rather green. "Naturally, I do not blame you, Draco. Voldemort is a harsh master, even to those who may not willingly serve him."

Hermione frowned. "Pardon, Professor, but what does that have to do with Draco and me losing our powers?"

"It _is_ a rather odd way to manifest itself, is it not?" The old wizard's eyes twinkled.

"Manifest what?" Draco had recovered from his shock at _Harry Potter _replacing him as Head Boy and was now eyeing Dumbledore suspiciously.

"Friendship," Dumbledore said simply. "As those rather blunt Americans say, 'united we stand.' I believe this is a test of sorts. You will both be my assistants until such time as your powers return, and perhaps at least one of you will learn something they did not expect."

"Professor," Draco said in a somewhat unsteady voice, "you really don't expect me to live as a _Muggle_, do you?"

"Muggles are rather fascinating, Mr. Malfoy. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

"But—"

"Now come. Unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend to back at the castle; I have secured a Portkey to take us there." He procured a bag of lemon sweets. "Edible after use; how charming of the Minister." Smiling, he held it out. "Three...two...one..."

And the world whirled away.

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Please review! And thanks **Miranda Took**! 

etherealfire


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